


Plug It In

by madame_d



Series: Viagra [1]
Category: NSYNC, Popslash
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-05-05
Updated: 2004-05-05
Packaged: 2017-10-19 01:12:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/195241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madame_d/pseuds/madame_d
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Justin takes Viagra.  It doesn't go according to plan.  Lance's side of the story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Plug It In

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [ [100 Ways Challenge](http://www.hazyphase.net/missedopportunities/100wayschallenge.html)] prompt: _Viagra_. Mostly PWP.
> 
> Thanks to nopseud and jewelianna for the beta.

Lance was not, by any means, a morning person. Unlike some people he could name, however, he wasn't too difficult to be around right after he got up. Chris, for example, tended to be surly, grumpy, and unpleasant before his first glass of grapefruit juice. Justin was notorious for biting people's heads off if they bothered him before he'd had his sugar-loaded cereal. And even JC, the sweetest guy in the world, tended to demand people's heads be chopped off prior to his morning coffee, until he was gently reminded that he was not, in fact, the Queen of Hearts, at which point he reverted to his sweet self and sweetly apologised for wanting people beheaded. It seemed logical then that Lance would consider himself to be more amiable in the morning than, say, seventy-five percent of his bandmates.

But being woken up at 3:30am was just cruel. He made sure he had his pyjama pants on and shuffled towards the door, groping his way along the wall because his eyes were still refusing to cooperate and just _open_. He decided that the person on the other side, knocking quietly but relentlessly, would be killed swiftly and mercilessly. Because, hello? Lance needed his beauty sleep.

Lance yanked open the door and said distinctly, "You are dead. Any last words?"

In response, he got a miserable, "Lance? Help?"

Finally peeling his eyes open, Lance was met with a rather pathetic sight. Justin Timberlake, the object of teenage-girl lust all over the world, was standing in the hallway, shoulders up and face down. He was barefoot, wearing Joey's 'Spear Britney' t-shirt and JC's sweatpants. Both JC and Justin had a great affinity for sparkles, but only JC was brave enough to actually _buy_ sparkly sweatpants. Justin only had the courage to steal them from JC. Justin was also flushed, cupping his crotch with both hands, and fidgeting.

"Justin, did you get locked out of your room and need to pee?" Because really, that could be the only explanation.

"Uh. No. Can I come in?"

"'May I,' Timberlake, 'may I.' We went to the same bus school; why is your grammar so much worse than mine?"

Justin ignored the question and slowly shuffled inside, staring at his toes (with red-painted toenails, Lance noticed) until Lance closed the door. Lance gave the back of Justin's neck a long, hard stare, did not receive one in return, and went to sit on the bed. Thinking better of it, he lay back, pillowing his head on his folded hands.

"Okay, talk to me, Justin. Because I am thoroughly unappreciative of being woken up at 3:30 in the morning, only two hours, I must add, after I've gone to bed, and this better be a fucking emergency or the end of the world, because I'm _thisclose_ to having a hit taken out on you. And don't think that I won't; I _know_ people." He hoped he sounded menacing enough, because he really wanted to go back to sleep.

"I'm horny," Justin said in a small voice.

Lance waited. Surely, there was more to it than that. Surely, Justin wouldn't dare wake him up at ass o'clock in the middle of the night just because he couldn't be bothered to use his hand.

"And?" Lance prompted him, when there was no more information forthcoming.

"And that's it."

"Justin," Lance started with more patience than he felt, "please explain to me why you thought I would care. You are an adult; I am certain that you've known for quite some time how to take care of this particular issue when there is nobody around to have sex with. I mean... have you forgotten how to masturbate? Or are you having a religious identity crisis? Have you decided that masturbation would make you blind, and that pre-marital sex is a sin? Because it's a little too late for that, J."

Justin gingerly sat on the edge of the bed, still cupping his dick. Lance sat up and stared at him. Usually, Justin was happier about his erections than that.

"J, what's up?" Lance asked, hoping his voice carried just the right amount of concern, because it was almost 4am, and he was having a hard time caring about anything that was less important than the apocalypse.

"I took something. And uh... I came to you because you were least likely to laugh at me, so please prove me right and don't laugh in my face, all right?"

"You took something? You actually had the guts to take 'something' after the long 'lecture' Chris gave us in 1996, wherein he screamed himself hoarse and said he would personally rip our heads off if we experimented with anything more serious than pot?" Lance had a feeling that he would not be going back to bed. For one, his was waking up and his snark was back; he even made the air-quotes during his questions. Also, this was proving to be rather entertaining. "So, what did you take, J?"

Justin muttered something in reply, and Lance had to ask twice before Justin finally lifted his head, and said very distinctly, "I raided JC's first-aid kit. He still has that bottle of Viagra that he bought a while ago. I took one, just to see what it's like."

"All right, so what do you want me to do? I mean, it's _Viagra_ : you think sexy thoughts, you get horny, you get off. It did its thing, not that you needed any help in that department, and you just need to jerk off until it goes away. I'm sure you're capable of that, Justin. After all, you've had lots of practice."

"That's the problem. I'm not... getting off. And I've tried. For quite some time." Justin sounded miserable.

That wasn't how it was supposed to go at all so Lance became slightly worried. "Are you having any side effects? Headache? Heartburn? Nausea?"

"Maybe. I don't know. Bit of headache."

Lance quickly sat up again. At the rate he was going, he wouldn't need to do sit-ups for the next two days. Lance sighed. Seriously, they needed a separate bodyguard just to save Justin from himself, for all the trouble the kid got into. He rubbed his forehead, and plopped back down onto the bed, closing his eyes. When they'd discovered the bottle in JC's bag, Lance quietly freaked out and did some research online to know all the possible consequences of taking the drug. JC and Viagra were a very bad combination; the odds of something going wrong were pretty much against JC. Justin, however, being the golden child and all, was guaranteed to succeed. It was making Lance nervous that it was Justin, and not JC, who was suffering from side effects.

Justin fidgeted and rubbed at his crotch. "It hurts."

"Justin, I hate to break it to you, but if you are having some side effects and you can't come, maybe you should do something relaxing. I could... I don't know, give you a backrub. Viagra isn't supposed to make you suffer."

Justin squirmed on the bed. "Maybe it's because it's me. I mean, my uh... is used to my hand but now that it got all that extra stimulation from the pill, my hand's not enough." He looked up at Lance from under his eyelashes, something he did when he was trying to be extra-cute and irresistible. "I think you should have sex with me."

Very tempting, but Lance was morally opposed to taking advantage of his bandmates in their hour of need. "Justin, seriously, maybe you should lie down. Or let me draw you a cool bath."

Justin tilted until he fell over sideways onto the bed, drawing his knees up, hands still at his crotch.

"I'm going to die, aren't I? It's going to explode from over-stimulation, or it's going to fall off, and you're trying to make me comfortable before the real suffering begins, right?"

He sounded absolutely depressed, so Lance said, "No, I don't think that can happen. Honestly, J, I think you're just freaking out, just a bit. Maybe all you need to do is relax and calm down, and you know... you'll be able to come."

Justin sniffled miserably in response and rubbed at his crotch. Lance winced sympathetically. Getting up off the bed, he touched Justin's shoulder, thumb rubbing soothingly against the soft, Justin-warmed cotton. "I'll be right back, okay? I have to think." Lying on his side across the foot of the bed, curled into himself, Justin looked very small and impossibly young, vulnerable, and adorably cute. Lance flashed back to a time when he was young, and stupid, and crushing on Justin something awful. He winced again, this time at himself, and went to the bathroom.

It was impossible to think in the same room with Justin, who kept whimpering and rubbing his crotch. Moreover, Lance needed to pee, and it was hard to think with all that pressure on his bladder. So he peed, and brushed his teeth to wake up more fully, then closed the toilet lid and sat down to think. Or really, to tell himself the list of pros and cons of having sex with Justin. On one hand, he could be taking advantage. On the other, it seemed that Justin's inability to come stemmed from psychological reasons, and Lance would be seriously helping him out by having sex with him. Also, the sex could be good, and it'd been a while. Lance decided to fly by the seat of his pants, and not decline the invitation.

When he came out, Justin was lying on his back, feet propped on the bed, knees raised, moaning softly as he stroked himself, right hand moving slowly underneath the sparkly sweatpants. His left hand was underneath the t-shirt, stroking his belly. Lance gulped. It'd been a while since he'd walked in on Justin jerking off, and somehow, the sight had been nowhere near that hot when Justin was 17. He walked silently across the carpeted floor, stumbling over a tube of his own hand cream that Justin had found and, apparently, made use of, and leant over Justin, breathing onto his face. "How're you doing?"

Justin's eyes were glazed over with lust, bitten lips red and slightly swollen. Lance took a moment to admire the view.

"I'm doing great," Justin panted. "Want to uh... lend a hand?" There was a wet spot on the front of his sweatpants, so Lance figured that Justin had managed to relax enough to try again. This was definitely an invitation, so he slid Justin's sweatpants down his thighs and put his hand on Justin's dick. Justin arched his back, his hips thrusting his cock deeper into Lance's hand. The skin looked red and kind of raw, used, and when Lance tightened his fist, Justin moaned, and it might not have been lust. With his free hand, Lance petted Justin's growing curls, and said, "I'll be right back. Turn around a bit; get your head on the pillows."

While Justin rearranged himself on the bed, Lance grabbed his bathroom kit, and retrieved lube. Then, the condoms. Clutching both, he took his sleep pants off one-handed, got back on the bed, and straddled Justin's hips.

"Just so we are clear, J: this is me helping a buddy out. Also, with an understanding that you will never do anything this stupid ever again. All right?" He pulled at the hem of Justin's t-shirt, pulling it off and dropping it on the floor. He fervently hoped that this would work, because his inability to make Justin come would not only reflect most poorly on himself and his sexual prowess, but it could also involve a trip to a hospital and probably publicity, which would be very, very bad.

"Lance. Yes. Just _please_!" Justin arched against him, the hairs on his legs scratching against the skin of Lance's inner thighs. Lance swallowed and bent over, kissing Justin's belly, muscles tight and quivering under his lips, then skimmed his hands down Justin's legs, sliding the sweatpants off. He gave the head of Justin's cock a tentative lick, and Justin gasped, the muscles of his thighs straining. Lance watched Justin's face for a moment, then grinned like a happy shark, and flipped Justin onto his stomach.

It was a really good thing that they had the next day off, because Justin demanded 'harder and faster' and Lance didn't feel like refusing. Much, much later, he collapsed onto Justin's sweaty back, exhausted and sleepy, and hoping like hell that Viagra had worn off, because every part of him was sore, from the tips of his hair down to his toes. He slid out carefully, ignoring Justin's purr of sexual contentment, and got up to get rid of the condom and grab a washcloth. When he came back, Justin had turned over, a tired smile on his face, his skin a mess of come and sweat.

Justin stretched, his back making several popping noises, and Lance looked down. The skin of Justin's dick still looked red and raw, and he would feel it for quite some time, but hey, at least Viagra was not something that Justin was likely to repeat any time soon. Or again, really. He wordlessly gave Justin the washcloth, waited until it was used, and threw it back into the bathroom. It landed on the tiles with a wet plopping sound.

Lance crawled into bed and under the covers, and Justin rolled into him, one arm around his waist.

"Lance? May I stay?" Lance, tired from lack of sleep, exhausted by unplanned (and vigorous) physical activity, and charmed by correct grammar, mumbled his consent. He snuggled into the pillows and felt Justin's lips on his shoulder. Promising himself that he and Justin would talk about everything once they got up for real, he turned to face Justin, lying on his side, and closed his eyes. He felt movement on the bed, Justin shifting and turning around, then the bed dipped as Justin squirmed closer, pushing his back against Lance's chest, snuggling in. Right before falling asleep, Lance felt Justin's sweaty-sticky hand take his, pulling it over his waist and weaving their fingers together.


End file.
